


Ice Cream

by cowboykylux



Series: Pale x Reader Vignettes [8]
Category: Burn This - Wilson
Genre: Begrudgingly Soft, Explicit Language, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-05-02 09:32:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19196212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowboykylux/pseuds/cowboykylux
Summary: “You look like shit.” Pale announced himself with a frown, letting himself into your apartment as always.





	Ice Cream

**Author's Note:**

> This vignette was inspired by this prompt sent in by an anonymous person: Thoughts on Pale ready to (surprise) visit (fuck) you, but instead of you usual you,have a bit of a down day... he finds you on couch idk eating away bucket of ice cream? either wearing clothes or not depending on preference for 'down mood clothing style. (feeling bit blue at moment without a reason)

“You look like shit.” Pale announced himself with a frown, letting himself into your apartment as always. 

You weren’t where he thought you’d be, weren’t naked like he thought you’d be neither. You were curled up on the couch, wearing one of his silk shirts that was way too fuckin’ big on you, currently getting vanilla ice cream all over the fuckin’ place. Pale didn’t even give a shit that you were ruining his shirt, he was so entranced by the way you looked in it, wearing  _his_ clothes. 

“Thanks I feel like shit.” You snapped back, clearly not in the mood. 

He could hear the waver in your voice as you let out a shaky breath, and his chest clenched.

“Hey come on, what’d I say about tears, huh? Move over.” He shrugged off his leather jacket and rearranged you so that you were facing him on the couch, your legs wrapped around his waist. “Got an extra spoon? Nah it doesn’t fuckin’ matter.”

He took a big scoop of the ice cream straight from the tub with your spoon, swallowed it down and put the tub on the coffee table. You watched dejectedly as he did so, but he tipped your chin towards him, capturing your attention with a kiss. He didn’t want you to taste the cigarettes on his breath, hoped the ice cream made him a little less bitter for you. 

“Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong?” he pulled away after a moment, brushing tears away from your cheeks with his rough thumbs. You weren’t hysterical or nothin’, but it pained him to see you so blue.

“It’s nothing.” You shrugged, but he wasn’t fuckin’ havin’ that. 

“You’re breakin’ my heart doll – nothing’s ever nothin’. You don’t gotta hide anything from me, you know that right? I’m real good at makin’ things better, but I can’t do that if I don’t know what I gotta do in the first place. Someone say something to you? I’ll break their fucking jaw, you point ‘im out and i’ll fuckin’ kill the sonofabitch – what happened?” He didn’t raise his voice or nothing, didn’t want you to get all worked up.

“I’m just feeling down, no real reason. You ever get like that?” You tried explaining, and he just nodded.

“I don’t do too well with sad shit personally. Been told I fly off the fuckin’ handle. The stress keeps me busy mostly.” He said.

For whatever reason, that made you smile - shake your head with a little fuckin’ smile like he was bein’ ridiculous. 

“You gotta stop being so stressed out, you’ll make yourself sick.” You tucked some of his long dark hair behind his ear.

“So will all this ice cream, but you don’t see me tellin’ you to quit.” He pinched your nose, poked at your cheek, making you laugh.

He rearranged you so that you were laying down against his chest – he could barely fuckin’ fit on the couch layin’ down lengthwise like this, his feet were hangin’ over the edge of the armrest.

He hummed a little something he was making up as he went along, rubbed your back and just stayed with you in the moment for a while. 

“Sorry I’m not in the mood to get fucked.” You said, genuinely apologetic. 

He frowned, tugged on your ear to make you look up at him.

“Sorry? Don’t be sorry, you got nothing to be sorry for. I don’t always  _just_  want to fuck you, ya know. Sometimes i just want to be around ya.” He said with a sniff, wanting to make that perfectly fuckin’ clear – he was no fuckin’ romantic or nothin’, but he had to admit your presence soothed him greatly.

“Yeah?” You asked, big wet eyes shining up at him. 

“Yeah, you can be funny when you want. Sometimes i even think you’re cute too.” He cracked a little smile, and you grinned.

“You’re a real cracker-jack prize yourself.” You teased, and he clicked his tongue.

“See that’s what I mean.” He said, and you huffed a little laugh into his chest. “I can go if you want me to, but I don’t think you do, so I’m gonna stay and not fuck you, and we’ll do whatever you want instead. You want me to make you somethin’ to eat? All this sugar ain’t good for you.” He rubbed your back, pet at your hair a little to calm you down. 

“Could you just tell me about your day? I like hearing you talk.” You hummed.

“You like hearin’ me talk?” His hands stilled on your back, only a little surprised. Most people told him to shut the fuck up.

“Yeah.” You nodded, rubbing your cheek against his shirt.

“Okay, so i’ll talk. What should i talk about? I could tell you about the dumb fuckin’ woman who insisted on bringin’ her yappy fuckin’ dog into the restaurant, or how about the fuckin’ fiasco that was a fuckin’ fifteen person reservation that wound up bein’ twenty-five?”

“Dog please.” You said with a smile. 

He felt you settle in against him, your eyes slipped closed as he went on and on about the spoiled fuckin’ chihuahua who wore a pink tiara and the crazy owner who didn’t get that dogs weren’t allowed in a steakhouse. 

He talked until he felt you drift off to sleep, and then talked some more, hoping that if you could still hear him in your dreams, his inane stories would be louder than whatever thoughts had gotten you down in the first place. 


End file.
